Meridian
by Zana Zira
Summary: Set in Season 6: Four weeks after Sam took the swan dive into Lucifer's cage, Dean still isn't handling normal life well. He barely eats, hardly sleeps, and it's taking its toll on him in ways even Lisa and Ben are beginning to notice. Is there anything either of them can do for him, or will Dean's grief ruin this last good thing he has in his life? VERY light Dean/Lisa.


**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.**

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Tired.

That was the first word that sprang into Dean's mind as he opened his eyes and glared at the bright sunlight creeping through the blinds in the bedroom he shared with Lisa. She appeared to still be asleep, curled up against him with her head on his shoulder and her long, dark hair fanning out across his chest. Her face was peaceful, smiling softly at whatever her current dreams were showing her, and Dean couldn't help but give an exhausted smile of his own He wasn't surprised she had finally stopped waking every single time he had a nightmare; there were simply too many of those in a night for a normal person to keep up with.

It was no secret to either of them that he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in weeks, ever since Sam had taken a swan-dive down into Lucifer's cage, but it made him happy that at least Lisa could still find some peace and rest through the night despite sleeping next to someone so cursed as he was.

Still, he would like it if he didn't have to feel so damn _tired_ all the damn time.

Dean had spent his whole life functioning on less sleep than the average human – that was a hunter's life, and he embraced it without complaint. But even then he needed more than one or two hours of sleep a night, or at least a couple of nights a week that weren't so sleep-deprived. For the last month, though, two hours at a time was considered a victory. He usually awoke within a half hour, jerking out of a nightmare with a shaky gasp, and then it took him hours to fall asleep again. Or, if he somehow did manage to stay asleep longer, some tiny noise in the house would startle him awake, usually something as simple as the air conditioning switching on or a car passing by on the street below. For someone who used to be able to sleep for hours in the moving Impala or in motels right beside a set of train tracks, it made absolutely no sense.

Just another thing Hell was going to take away from him, he supposed.

When he looked at the clock and realized that he'd been staring aimlessly at the glowing slats in the blinds for the last fifteen minutes, Dean sighed and decided to once again give up the search for sleep this morning. Moving as carefully as he would if he was stalking a werewolf, he pulled his arm away from Lisa's grip, lowering her head to the pillow so softly she didn't even stir. Then he strode quietly out of the room, making his way to the bathroom to freshen up before anyone else awoke.

He tried not to look at himself in the mirror when he went in there these days, tried not to see the red-rimmed eyes outlined with gray circles or the stubble that should have been shaved days ago. He knew his face was gaunt, the skin pinched over his cheekbones after only nibbling at his food for so many weeks. He didn't know where his once voracious appetite had gone, but he knew he missed it, especially since Lisa's cooking was delicious and he hated wasting it. But he could barely choke down half a plate of food anymore before some memory of eating in a diner with Sam would surface, making everything Dean had just eaten threaten to come back up – and sometimes succeed – as the grief twisted his insides into knots.

What was it that old woman had said about her dead son when he and Sam were working the case at Lake Manitoc all those years ago? "Losing him… It's worse than dying." Yeah, that about summed it up. And he'd been dead before, so he would know.

Once he'd showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth, he dressed and quietly headed downstairs to start making breakfast. Lisa would be up soon, and he knew she liked having coffee ready just like he did, so he got a pot started, making a double batch since he knew he'd need it to stay functional throughout the day. Then he put his elbows on the counter, using them to support his head when he laid it in his hands and tried to massage away the headache that was already beginning to throb in his temples.

As soon as he heard Ben's alarm clock ring, he straightened and began cracking eggs into a bowl, scrambling them before pouring them into a well-greased pan. He'd become so good at judging Lisa and Ben's schedules that he almost always finished the eggs and toast at the exact moment they came into the kitchen. Today was no exception, and Lisa smiled at him, kissing his cheek as she went to get a cup of coffee and Ben hungrily scooped Dean's cooking onto his plate.

"Fanksh, Dnn," he said around a mouthful of food when the man handed him some butter and jam for his toast.

"No problem," Dean answered with a grin, snatching a piece of toast off of Ben's plate and taking an oversized bite. He was actually hungry this morning, which was a nice change. "You need energy for school, y'know. And why is that?"

"So I can kick ass – butt," Ben hurriedly corrected himself when he saw his mother's glare from the other side of the kitchen.

Dean froze, the piece of toast hovering halfway to his mouth.

"_Hey, ass-butt!_"

It had been a while since he'd thought about Castiel, and right now he really wished he hadn't, because with that memory came a string of images he'd tried so hard to forget – Stull Cemetery; Castiel exploding in a shower of flesh and gore; Bobby's neck snapping with a flick of his brother's wrist; Lucifer in Sam's body, slamming him against the Impala, beating him senseless.

"_Sam, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you._"

"_It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him…_"

"Dean? Dean!"

Dean snapped out of the painful flashback, surprised to see that Lisa had his arm over her shoulders and was slowly guiding him down into one of the chairs at the table. Why hadn't he noticed how weak his legs suddenly felt?

"Okay, easy," Lisa said almost to herself, making sure Dean was seated before she let go of him. "Ben, honey, why don't you go ahead and ride to school on the bus this morning? I think Dean's a little too tired to drive right now."

"Sure," Ben said, casting a worried glance at his pseudo-father as he picked up his backpack and headed for the front door. "See you later, Dean."

"Yeah, see ya…" Dean answered weakly. The moment the front door was closed, he laid his head in his hands, breathing through the head rush that still hadn't completely gone away.

"What happened just now, Dean?" Lisa asked softly, pulling a chair up next to his and putting a hand on his knee. "You just went white all of a sudden. I was afraid you were going to faint or something."

"_Who knows? Maybe I was,_" Dean thought with a sad smile. "_At least then I might get some sleep._" Instead, he said, "I'm not really sure. Maybe I'm coming down with a bug."

Lisa raised her eyebrow, and then she sighed, patted his knee and stood to pick up the cordless phone from the kitchen counter.

"Who are you calling?" Dean asked, worried she might be trying to take him to the doctor. After the numerous injuries he'd suffered through in his life, the hunter and hospitals didn't mix very well.

"Your boss. You're not going in to work today, Dean."

"No, Lis, I'm fine. I just need some coffee and –"

"You're not fine. We both know you're completely exhausted, and you're going to stay home today and let me help you sleep before you end up hurting yourself or someone else on the job."

Dean knew her argument was valid, and his ears burned with embarrassment as she made up some lie to his boss about a stomach bug he and Ben had both apparently contracted. She thanked the man for his well-wishes and hung up, turning her full attention to Dean once the phone had been replaced in its cradle.

"Okay, come on."

"Where?" he asked, seriously doubting that anywhere they went would help him sleep any better. He'd tried every room in the house already; all of them gave him the same nightmares.

"You'll see. Just trust me, okay?" Her smile was so warm, so genuinely caring and concerned, that he had almost no choice but to follow her. He stood and, after making sure he wasn't going to tumble face-first onto the floor, he strode along after her, tilting his head in puzzlement when she led him to her home office and sat him down in front of the computer. He didn't say anything for a while, just watching while she pulled up YouTube and typed the letters "A-S-M-R" into the search bar. Once she had found a suitable list of results, she turned the mouse over to him with a satisfied nod.

Dean stared blankly at the screen, completely baffled by some of the video titles. "'Gentle Whispering?' 'Spa Role-play?' 'Haircut?' Lisa, what the hell is all this?"

"It's called Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response or ASMR, and it's basically a way to make an over-stimulated brain relax by listening to sounds that you have pleasant memories of. Some people like to hear things like whispers, or running water, or even hospital sounds." Dean shuddered at that last one. Lisa leaned over to grab something from a drawer in the desk, putting the small blue device beside Dean when she had found it. "It's helped a lot of my clients recently, and it's not a drug or a medical procedure so it won't hurt you to try it."

"Okay, sure," Dean said slowly, giving a mental shrug as he looked at the tiny blue square – an IPod, he remembered now. At this point he'd be willing to try just about anything. "What should I do?"

"Just listen to some of these videos, find a sound that relaxes you a little, and put it on the IPod. You know how to do that, right?"

"Uh… yeah." He didn't, but he'd really rather look it up than admit that to her right now.

"Good. Well, I'll leave you to search in peace. If you need any help just yell."

"Right."

Once Lisa had left the room, Dean began aimlessly clicking on a few of the videos, not surprised when things like "Gentle Whispering" and "Hair Brushing" did more to creep him out than relax him. "Running Water" just made him feel like he had to pee, and "Rummaging Through Makeup" – wait, when the hell did he even click that one? Just when he thought he was never going to find a sound he liked, he decided to click on a fairly innocent-looking link: "Typing and Paper Sorting."

The effect was instantaneous.

In the blink of an eye he'd been transported back to a simpler time, back when he and Sam had first begun hunting together again and all his little brother could think about was catching up on all the knowledge he'd forgotten during his years at Stanford. Dean remembered how he would go to sleep every night with the sounds of Sam researching in the background – nearly constant typing on softly clacking keys, stacks of paper being moved and shuffled, books being opened and closed and leafed through. For years it had continued that way; no matter what was going on or how tired either of them might be, Sam almost always stayed up later than Dean, unknowingly lulling his big brother to sleep as he researched into the early hours of the morning.

Without a second thought, Dean looked up how to download the file, and he had it on his new IPod and playing in a matter of minutes. Much to his surprise, he soon found himself yawning, and he made his way over to the couch and sat down, wanting to at least be in a comfortable place now that he was starting to feel tired. Before he even knew what had happened, his vision had darkened, and he slumped over onto his side, curling into a ball as if trying to physically hold his memories as close to him as he could. And when Lisa came in and threw a blanket over him, he simply snuggled deeper into the couch, sleeping peacefully for the first time since he had moved in with the Braedens. She kissed his cheek and left him there, happy to see him resting peacefully even if it was on the sofa.

It was the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

Over time the nightmares became less frequent, and Dean's life returned to relative normalcy. He put back on the weight he had lost, started to eat and sleep on a regular schedule, and even began to laugh and smile again. Still, there were some nights when he found himself feeling totally lost, and on those nights he would creep down to the living room sofa, plug in his headphones, and listen to the sound of a stranger typing away on a nameless keyboard somewhere far away. On these nights, Dean could have his brother by his side again for a little while – even if only in his dreams.


End file.
